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Wailing the dawn, in muttered, dying howl 

 Like morbid plaint from penitential soul ; 

 When, OSTRECAPTOR seeks the neighboring shore 

 Launches his bark, and grasps the ready oar 

 Swiftly compels th obedient skiff to glide, 

 In noiseless current, through the yielding tide ; 

 Low bending, dexterous, pulls the pliant blade, 

 Now to advance and now to retrograde ; 

 In measured time, with quick repeated strokes, 

 The circling eddies of the stream provokes ; 

 Now here, now there, directs the changing prow, 

 Now quicker moves, now cautiously more slow : 

 Avoids the shallows, through entangling reeds, 

 With vigorous arm the nimble vessel speeds 

 Till gained, at length, th auspicious place, he 



throws 



The trusty anchor from th dancing bows 

 Now, to St. Peter, of fishermen protector, 

 Prays for good luck, and quaffs his first kumecter 

 As, down his throat, the welcome moisture flows, 

 Quick leaps the blood, and with new vigor glows ; 

 A genial warmth renews the sluggish veins, 

 And all the frame a freshen d life attains. 

 Thus fortified, he grasps by either limb, 

 The oyster rake, and sinks it in the stream ; 



